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Your addiction is not an excuse, Your amends don’t mean anything to me.

When I was in recovery, I saw so many people take so many dirty cakes, that it occurred to me I was never going to get clean and sober, as long as I was surrounded by people who refused to be honest and open to their own bullshit. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I started to realize that I was using drugs and booze to hide the shame and keep the secrets of my own abuse stories hidden.

It occurred to me when a friend who had my name overdosed on drugs and subsequently died, that if I didn’t change my ways I was going to end up just like him. I shouldn’t say friend, we’d only ever spoken a couple of times, but his death, largely because we shared the same name really hit me in a negative way. A way I am only just beginning to understand.

I am fully aware that the men who abused me for the last twenty years had various mental health issues and addictions, and there’s a part of me that genuinely understands that in a way that makes it resonate inside my brain. “If they had been sober they might not have done the things they did to me.”

The thing is they chose to pick up drugs and alcohol, and they chose to abuse me, conscious or not it was a choice, and it wasn’t a choice I had any power over. I was powerless against their addictions.

People who are living in pain and hurt often lash out at others in a variety of ways, in my case it happened to be that I was raped, beaten and tortured by men who probably experienced the exact same kinds of abuse, and I can’t for the life of me, bring myself to feel sorry for them.

I can’t even bring myself to care.

My life was destroyed by the choices of men who decided my life wasn’t worth protecting, largely because of the color of my skin, and the fact that I was raised by a single mom. I was dragged through the cracks and left to die, and by all rights I should have died. Instead I survived to tell the story of a woman who was so badly abused and traumatized that my entire life has been thrown into utter chaos.

I am being forced to make choices that will hopefully help me heal, but this process is hard. I am in a place of recovery on my own, and all I can think is, no one is ever going to believe that I was raised to be a victim.

No matter how much my mother did or did not intervene, I was trained to believe that the only thing I was good for, was spreading my legs for every guy who decided that was what they wanted from me. I learned at an early age that the only thing I had to offer the world was sex.

These are the lessons I learned at the hands of men who deal with mental health issues, with addiction, and there is no part of me that wants, or expects an apology.

I don’t want an apology because it won’t mean a fucking thing to me. I don’t care that you might be in recovery, that you might be trying to rebuild yourself or your life, I don’t care that you might have found a way to find peace with yourself and the things you did to me.

I hope you rot in hell, and there is nothing that is ever going to change my mind. I used to be the kind of person who believes in forgiveness, but all I have now is a hand full of regrets that remind me that I could have been so much more than I am becoming right now.

I deserved better, but instead I was ignored, isolated and abused because you were taught to believe you as a white man deserve to take whatever you want, regardless of what it might do to someone else’s life.

You ruined my life. Your amends don’t mean shit to me. Your recovery doesn’t mean shit to me. I don’t care about you and I won’t forget.

There will never come a time when the Krisya Ohana family returns to what it could be, because what it could be is forever destroyed by what it was.

My heart is absolutely and irrevocably broken, in ways that I am only just beginning to understand, I have lost my ability to create artwork, because I am so bloody battered and broken on the inside that nothing matters to me any more.

I am miserable, because I am only just beginning to understand the damage that was done to me, and the best I can get out of anyone in my support system is “I believe you believe it happened.”

So while you’re all living your lives and promising to do better, remember you created these demons, and while you may not have to be the one to live with them, you are most certainly to blame for everything that happened to me up until this point.

What I do about it however is entirely my choice, unfortunately for me however, my choices are limited by my inability to move past what was done to me. You destroyed my life, you don’t deserve my forgiveness.

Devon J Hall

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